


When We're Not Dancing

by DrowningInTheRainbow



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInTheRainbow/pseuds/DrowningInTheRainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferraux and Dorian talk about their relationship and their place in the world. Plus, Mother Giselle reassures Ferraux.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We're Not Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble (ish) I kind of went everywhere with this and it doesn't really feel finished but I think I wanted to do too much with this fic so I just want to post it now (if that makes any sense).
> 
> So, this takes place sometime after the Orlais dance. And I didn't describe Ferraux (other than being older and Trevelyan) so that he is up to some personal interpretation. Let me know if this hurts or helps the piece.
> 
> Anyways sorry for the ramble; please enjoy!

Ferraux looked adoringly at his lover. Dorian lie naked in Ferraux's bed, their previous night casting delicious dreams dancing in his mind. The older mage stroked Dorian's cheek before standing and pulling on pants (unaware they are Dorian's). The Tevinter man twitched his nose, but remained asleep. Ferraux moved out to the balcony, enjoying the view of the mountainside, running a hand across his hairy chest. He does not appear to be bothered by the chill.

Ferraux does not know how much time has passed, but he startles nevertheless when arms snake around his waist. Dorian presses their bodies together, then softly whispers in his ear, “Dance with me.”

Ferraux stutters out, “But there's no music.”

Dorian chuckles, pulling back and taking Ferraux's hand. “There doesn't have to be music to dance. Music is but a compliment to the intimacy of dancing,” he says. Dorian extends their joined hands and with his free hand he puts Ferraux's atop his shoulder, then placing his own around the older mage's waist. Pressing close for a moment, he touches their lips together before separating again. “One, two, and three!”

With said words, Dorian and Ferraux swing about their room. Ferraux hums a light tune, while Dorian chuckles softly. It soon escalates into laughter from both their voices, while their dancing becomes less graceful, to put it mildly. For a dramatic finish, Ferraux sweeps Dorian into the air, only to back himself onto the bed, causing Dorian to fall over him. Their barreling laughter sweeps throughout the castle.

When they recollect themselves, Ferraux kisses Dorian softly. “Please know that I love you, Dorian,” the younger mage smiles softly and reconnects their lips. Ferraux kisses with excess passion, but then separates before Dorian can reciprocate, “For you must know that. When we dance I get lost in the entwinement of our lives but outside these walls we wage war. At any moment I could lose you – or you, I – and I can't bear the thought of you not knowing how much I love you.”

Dorian's eyes shine lightly but he replies strongly, “And you must know that when we're not dancing, I still hear the music of our souls, and every movement we make is one more step towards each other. Our footfalls are an eternal dance of our lives forever entwined. I know you love me, Ferraux, just as I love you.” He returns the kiss with equal passion. He climbs over Ferraux and leans over him, their lips not separating, except to join tongues. Dorian moans softly into Ferraux's mouth before separating. “I cannot put it plainer: you are my life, my love, my passion, my sex, my drive, my everything. And I am nothing without you.” He rejoins their lips and they lose themselves to each other.

It is the afternoon when the Inquisitor rejoins the rest of Skyhold. He notices a few extra stares than normal, but thinks nothing of it. It isn't until he sits in the garden and an amused Mother Giselle sits next to him, that he becomes aware something is amiss. “I suspect you had a nice morning?” the kind mother opens. Ferraux simply nods. “If you're wondering about the extra attention, I suspect it only has to do with your current clothing than your choice of partner.”

At this, Ferraux startles and tries to discreetly check his clothing. He finds perhaps a lesser blow than he was expecting: Dorian's signature off-sholder robe graces his body, fitting only slightly tighter than it would on the younger mage. “Oh...” Ferraux tries, but fails to come up with words to say to Mother Giselle. Luckily, the wise woman does not need words, and holds up a hand to stop any.

“As I said, child, it matters not to me – nor to the important ones around here – with whom you lie, so long as you are happy. And from your spirit I am most certain that you are. Just perhaps get separate closets.” Mother Giselle smiles happily and pats the Inquisitor's shoulder. She stands and exits the garden, smiling softly at the passing Tevinter mage, whom takes her place.

The two men sit in comfortable silence, Dorian hanging an arm around Ferraux's shoulders. “Did she tell you to invest in separate closets, too?” Ferraux asked softly, stroking Dorian's gray tunic covered shoulder, the shirt hanging loosely over him.

The two laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
